


somnolence

by simplycarryon



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Spoilers, also cuddle piles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 17:20:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4928434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplycarryon/pseuds/simplycarryon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hard to sleep when everything is too quiet and too empty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	somnolence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [feralphoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feralphoenix/gifts).



> spoilers for the true pacifist ending, which has been tweaked slightly.
> 
> an au in which frisk and chara have separate bodies instead of sharing one, and also in which things didn't end in "let me go, I can't be saved," because honestly i was promised a game where nobody has to die? protect these children.

Your new room is too big, and too cold, and too _quiet._

Loneliness comes in bits and pieces, especially as you roll over and stare at the star-patterned ceiling. You think about Frisk picking the glowing stars out themself, begging Papyrus to let them stand on his shoulders so they could stick stars to the ceilings in all three new bedrooms, and you think about how they set them up the same in each room so you could all share the same imitation sky.

You’d laughed, then.

You’re crying, now.

The tears well up before you can stop them, and you feel _ridiculous_ because Chara and Frisk are just down the hall, literal feet away from your bedroom. You could get up, right now, and drag some blankets and a pillow down the hall with you. You could fix this problem yourself.

But boss monsters are supposed to be strong, and not lonely or sad, so you curl up a little tighter under the blanket and squeeze your eyes shut. You can wait. You’ll be fine. The morning will come soon enough—along with an actual sun, which takes enough getting used to as it is—and then everything will be fine again.

You hold your locket tight between both paws, thumbing the simple engraving on the cover. Its warmth fills you with determination. You can do this. You’ll be fine.

The door creaks, just a little, and footsteps prelude the dull _thunk_ of someone’s shin discovering the furniture.

 _“Shhhhhhh,”_ says Frisk, from somewhere in the darkness, as Chara’s grunt of pain turns into a sharply-whispered collection of angry-sounding words you’ve only ever heard Undyne use before. “You’ll wake everyone up.”

“Shh yourself,” Chara snaps, and something across the room clatters noisily to the ground. “Stupid chair.”

“Come on.”

More footsteps, and then your covers shift, and a scarred hand pats your face experimentally in the darkness. “Move over, dummy,” Chara says, giving you a very small and mostly-affectionate shove.

Obligingly, you roll over, leaving as much space for them as you can. Chara piles in next to you, and Frisk after that, but your bed wasn’t really designed to hold more than one person and eventually Chara ends up lying half-draped over you and Frisk is somewhere in the middle with one arm in Chara’s face and an elbow in your ribs but you’ve never been so glad to be squished and nearly falling off the side of the bed before.

“What are you doing in here?” you ask, when they’re finally settled.

“I got cold,” Chara says, nonchalant. “Here, see?”

They shove cold feet against your toe pads, and you yelp and wriggle away and fall out of bed, taking the bedspread with you. You’re laughing too hard to honestly care about the bump, or about the affectionate complaining from the bed above you.

Frisk rolls out of bed, then, landing squarely on top of you, followed closely by Chara. They’re unapologetic in their closeness, in the tangle of blankets and limbs that ensues as you find comfortable spots on the floor, which is not softer than the bed but certainly offers a little more elbow room.

Your new room is still big, but it’s not so bad, now.

You’re warm, and you revel in that warmth, in the drowsy breathing on either side of you, in the arms flung across you and the feeling of all three of you together again under the same star-speckled ceiling.

It’s not much, but it’s all you could ever want.


End file.
